Violet Souls

By Abbey MacMunn

While searching for clues to her past, single mother Bree Mills discovers a subculture of aliens with supernatural abilities living on Earth. And she’s one of them. Finding herself hurled into a world of possibilities, it’s made more alluring by Quinn Taylor, the 324-year-old, violet-eyed Evoxian from her childhood dreams.

Quinn knows his destiny is entwined with Bree’s. He’s fraught with frustration and desire, but before he can confess his love, he must wait for her to sense the Akui, a mysterious force tied with ancient Evoxian law.

At a Cotswolds country manor, passions awaken and ignite a love more magical than the once-Utopian planet, Evox. Then Fate delivers a cruel and heart-breaking blow when Bree is kidnapped by a malicious alien who wants her and her power. Will Quinn still love Bree when she’s faced with protecting her half-human daughter... whatever the cost?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
• Release date: Sep 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463153697

Abbey MacMunn

Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal, fantasy and sci fi romance. She lives in Hampshire, UK with her husband and their four children. She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association. When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.

Book preview

While searching for clues to her past, single mother Bree Mills discovers a subculture of aliens with supernatural abilities living on Earth. And she’s one of them. Finding herself hurled into a world of possibilities, it’s made more alluring by Quinn Taylor, the 324-year-old, violet-eyed Evoxian from her childhood dreams.

Quinn knows his destiny is entwined with Bree’s. He’s fraught with frustration and desire, but before he can confess his love, he must wait for her to sense the Akui, a mysterious force tied with ancient Evoxian law.

At a Cotswolds country manor, passions awaken and ignite a love more magical than the once-Utopian planet, Evox. Then Fate delivers a cruel and heart-breaking blow when Bree is kidnapped by a malicious alien who wants her and her power. Will Quinn still love Bree when she’s faced with protecting her half-human daughter… whatever the cost?

VIOLET SOULS

The Evoxian Legacies, book one

Abbey MacMunn

Published by Tirgearr Publishing

Author Copyright 2018 Abbey MacMunn

Cover Art: Cora Graphics (www.coragraphics.it)

Editor: Lucy Felthouse

Proofreader: Rosemary Graham

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you for the purpose of review, then please log into the publisher’s website and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting our author’s hard work.

This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks go to Helen Greaken, my fab beta readers, and to those who wish to remain anonymous.

And a huge, huge thank you to my critique partner, Juno Goldstone, for her dedication and her invaluable feedback on Violet Souls.

VIOLET SOULS

The Evoxian Legacies, book one

Abbey MacMunn

Chapter One

Brianna Mills grasped the curious pendant around her neck. Like before, when she’d first touched it, the violet jewel warmed, and her peripheral vision shrank back.

Her steps faltered. With somehow more focused vision, she watched the man coming towards her along the tree-lined track.

Jasper stopped rummaging in the undergrowth, sniffed the air, and wagged his tail. But despite her dog’s interest, she sensed something…odd.

It wasn’t just the disconcerting vision or the static electricity surrounding her. Or even the disappointment as she pondered over the outcome of her adoption meeting earlier. No, this was something else, something tangible. Electromagnetic energy rolled over her skin, made her scalp tingle. A strange, coppery scent circulated in the cool spring air.

Blood pulsated in her ears, muffling the sound of birds chirping in the trees. She came to a standstill, all five senses fizzing with an unseen force, her heartbeat pounding like tribal drums.

Still six metres ahead, the guy looked tall, well-built with broad shoulders, and casually dressed in a faded brown leather jacket and dark blue jeans, worn at the knees. Overlong blond hair rested on his shoulders, and messy waves fell either side of a tanned, ruggedly handsome face.

Drop. Dead. Bloody. Gorgeous.

A tiny spark ignited somewhere within and she forgot how to breathe.

Bree recognised him. But he wasn’t anyone she’d ever met before, not while she was awake. No, this was someone whom she used to dream of when she was a child.

It didn’t make sense. How could she have dreamt about him, what, fifteen or so years ago?

The spark became a small flame, breathing its warmth on parts of her that she’d forgotten existed. Her cheeks heated. She had so little experience with men. No wonder she’d fallen for the first guy to show her any interest and been naïve enough to get herself pregnant.

Jasper barked, which made her jump, and then raced towards the guy, wagging his tail and leaping around excitedly, greeting him like some long-lost friend.

Jasper! Get back here. Right now.

Trying to focus through the tunnel vision, she willed her feet to walk the remaining distance to retrieve her dog.

Get a grip, Bree, get a grip.

Keeping her head down, she wished she hadn’t tied her hair in a loose bun, so she could have hidden her embarrassment behind the long tresses.

Sorry. Jasper doesn’t normally like strangers. She gulped. Her words were breathless and pathetic, and she cursed under her breath. Is he a stranger, though? With shaky hands and distorted vision, she grabbed her Labrador and fumbled with the lead, desperate to get the damn thing to clip on to Jasper’s collar.

Are you wearing blue contact lenses? he asked in a deep, hypnotic, and strangely familiar voice.

Bree blinked rapidly and her vision returned to normal. What…? No. She wouldn’t look at him, preferring to give her attention to Jasper’s lead, now gripped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

She could almost feel the guy’s stare burning the top of her head. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she backed away—until she noticed his dog.

Similar to a pure white Alsatian, but she’d never seen one as massive or as muscular. It stared at her too, with weird violet eyes.

Violet eyes like hers.

Bree spun on her heels and bolted for the trees, dragging a protesting Jasper behind her.

Tree trunks blurred, twigs snapped underfoot but she didn’t stop. She knew these woods, could almost navigate them blindfolded. Her dopey dog barked and leapt around her, thinking it a game. After a few minutes, she drew a ragged breath and glanced behind to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Nothing, thank goodness.

She slowed her pace and ruffled Jasper’s ears. Come on, boy, let’s get you home. I think we’ve had enough excitement for today.

Jasper barked twice as though he understood every word. Daft dog.

At last she reached the quiet road that led to the back of her tiny two-bedroom semi. Bree hurried up the garden path, fished the key from her jeans’ pocket and unlocked the back door. Once inside the kitchen, she flicked the kettle switch, in need of a mug of good old English tea to settle her nerves.

While the water boiled, she sat at the table, wriggled out of her jacket and took off the necklace. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to wear it after all, but it was the only clue she had to her past. She’d not had a chance to look at it properly since the adoption meeting earlier, what with Jasper demanding a walk the second she’d got home.

Holding the antique jewel in her clammy palm, she examined it closely.

The stone warmed once more and the tunnel vision returned. How strange. It only warmed when she touched it with her fingers, not while she wore it around her neck. And when she’d seen him, the voice in her head reminded her, as if it needed to.

Bree squinted at the distorted view of her out-of-date kitchen and then back at the pendant. She’d first experienced its warmth when her post adoption caseworker had handed it to her, although Mrs. Newman hadn’t appeared to notice it. Then she’d seen the jewel was the same colour as her eyes. Her unusual violet eyes she hid behind blue contact lenses.

We found this in your file, tucked at the back of the papers, Mrs. Newman had told her, looking most apologetic, and uncomfortable, after explaining her adoption files contained no information on her birth mother or where Bree was born. The necklace might have belonged to your birth mother. You could take it to an antique dealer, she’d offered. They might be able to tell you more about it.

Bree blew out a breath. Somehow, she’d known right then she wouldn’t find the answers she sought from an antique dealer, but she’d slipped the necklace over her head and made a rapid exit, desperate to get away from Mrs. Newman’s well-meaning concern. She hated the way people reacted when they learned she was adopted—not Mrs. Newman, of course; she’d remained professional—but most people acted as though it was something they needed to apologise for.

Thanks to her wonderful adoptive parents, she held no regrets about being adopted, or harboured any animosity towards her birth mother, but still the question had always been there—why had she been given up for adoption? And now, why would there be a piece of jewellery left in her adoption file and nothing else?

Unable to come up with the answers, Bree returned her attention to the pendant.

Truly exquisite and mesmerizing, now she could study it in more detail. The silver chain, while pretty and delicate, was nothing unusual. But the violet jewel intrigued her. The flawless silver framework looked like strands of hair, woven into an intricate plait that weaved over and under one another, touching the oval stone at regular intervals to hold it in place. But the jewel wasn’t smooth now, like when she’d first seen it. Through her distorted vision the stone seemed multi-dimensional, and the more intensely she looked, the more depth and detail she saw. Fascinated, she turned the pendant. Vibrant amethyst fragments appeared to float magically in midair, sparkling like crystals as they caught the afternoon sunlight shining through the kitchen window.

She blinked several times and to her surprise the tunnel vision disappeared, as it had before. The stone looked smooth again. Still stunning, but nothing so intense, or so intriguing, as she had just seen.

Scraping the chair across the kitchen floor, she raced upstairs to remove her contact lenses. She’d worn blue-coloured contacts since she was fifteen, when she’d pleaded with her adoptive mum to buy them to end the relentless bullying at school over the unusual colour of her eyes.

On the rare occasions she hadn’t worn her lenses, people stared. Often, their stares were curious, sideways glances, but sometimes, and she had no idea why, they were wide-eyed with fear.

Bree peered in the bedroom mirror and frowned. She rarely looked at her eye colour these days, preferring to pop her contacts in the minute she woke, pretend she was normal and not the loner girl with the creepy eyes as they’d called her. She took a good look at the deep violet ring around the outer edge of her irises, and the varying shades of violet and lilac towards the pupils, with flecks of amethyst dotted here and there. Pushing an unruly tress of chocolate-brown hair away from pale skin, she poked her tongue out. She might think herself pretty if it wasn’t for the freaky eyes.

As she’d suspected at the adoption meeting, the crystal did have the same shading as her eyes.

Lots of things in her life had seemed odd, weird even, but nothing compared to this. What did it mean? Her skin tingled with anticipation.

She checked her watch. Time to get Lexie from school. With real life and responsibilities setting in, the much-needed cup of tea would have to wait.

Popping her blue contacts back in, she traipsed down the stairs, slipping the necklace over her head. For some reason, and despite the bizarre sensations the pendant gave her, she couldn’t bear to be apart from it.

* * *

Bewildered, Quinn Taylor watched her disappear into the woods. He’d imagined this moment so many times, waited long, lonely years to see her again, but, in less than a minute, she’d disappeared. He’d let her slip away without attempting to follow her. Even though every bone in his body begged him to follow her, to take her in his arms and tell her everything, he feared he might scare her away forever. It was nothing like he’d envisioned. Nothing at all.

The white Alsatian cocked his head to one side, paw poised in midair.

Quinn balled his fists. Damn you, Drew! She looked terrified. It’s your fault she ran off. You must have frightened her.

Birds stopped twittering in the branches above. The muscular dog quivered from side to side. Slow movements at first, then becoming so rapid the dog form blurred. The cool breeze stilled.

In less than three seconds, dog metamorphosed into man.

It wasn’t me, Drew retorted, cricking his neck as the final part of shifting snapped back into place.

Quinn took off his rucksack and threw it at him.

More likely it was you. Drew grabbed a pair of jeans from the bag and slipped them on. What sort of dumb-arse question was that to ask her? ‘Are you wearing blue contact lenses?’

Quinn glared at his friend and considered his words. Drew did have a point; it had been a ridiculous question. What was I thinking? One look at her and his brain had turned to mush.

Frustration waned and his mouth curled into a smile. Okay, you got me on that one.

Drew shrugged gorilla-sized shoulders. "I could have morphed into a naghari instead of a dog if I’d wanted to frighten her," he said, laughing.

Quinn glanced at the magnificent, dragon-like creature tattooed on Drew’s muscled forearm. Nagharii were almost extinct on their world, once considered sacred, but here on Earth they were nothing more than myths. He’d only seen Drew become the creature once, but it was awe inspiring, and damn scary too. Showoff.

Jealous, Drew countered, still grinning like a buffoon.

But Quinn wasn’t listening. His gaze flitted back to the trees and his vision misted, recollecting every detail of his brief encounter with her. He touched the amethyst talisman he wore around his neck, using its power to commit everything to a memory that would never fade.

He liked the way she wore her hair, piled on top with wispy strands that brushed against her pale neck. He liked the way her cheeks had turned a delicate rosy pink, too. If only she’d looked at him, just once, maybe she would have seen him. Really seen him.

She’s even more beautiful than I remember, he mumbled, his own voice sounding far away.

Drew slapped his back, forcing Quinn back to the present. "Come on, Quinn. She’ll be safe for tonight. She’s wearing her talisman, so we’ll be able to sense its tenaga tomorrow."

* * *

What’s up, Bree? Jane’s fuchsia-pink, false fingernails clinked around a glass of white wine. You seem distracted.

Bree dropped her fork on the plate, and not for the first time during their meal. She’d been knocking things over all evening. In times like this, she wished she hadn’t vowed to never drink alcohol again. After today’s events, she needed a drink.

Lexie fidgeted in her chair, huge ice-blue eyes curious, more aware than they should be for her nine years. Yeah, what’s up, Mum?

Oh great; her daughter too. Is it that obvious?

Jane and Lexie exchanged a secret auntie-and-niece look. Yes! They chimed together, laughing.

Two against one is not fair. She’d have to tell them.

She looked at Lexie, the only good thing to come out of her brief marriage to Matthew. She’d run this conversation through her head a hundred times since this morning’s adoption meeting, and she was sure her daughter would be okay with it, but her stomach still tied itself into knots. So, you know how I told you I was adopted? she began.

Yes, Mum. Grandma and Grandad chose you when you were a baby, but Auntie Jane is their natural daughter. Lexie’s voice took on a sarcastic tone, reciting what she’d been told numerous times before.

Bree pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. Little madam, too grown up for her own good.

Where’s this leading, Bree? asked Jane.

She took a breath and came straight out with it. I went to the adoption and fostering centre today, to find out about my birth mother.

You did what? Jane’s wine spilt on her designer blouse. She shook it off as though she couldn’t give a damn her blouse cost more than Bree made in a week. Why on earth didn’t you tell me? I would have come with you, you know that.

Bree put her knife and fork together in a straight line on her plate—she’d hardly touched her shepherd’s pie.

Jane was the total opposite to Bree. Her sister was successful, owned a company that made classy handbags, was single by choice, a self-confessed man-eater, and had a passion for designer clothes and expensive jewellery. But despite their differences and the thirteen-year age gap, they were close. Bree was as mature though, if not more so—she’d had no choice. At seventeen, a drunken fumble in the back of a car resulted in her getting pregnant, followed a few months later by a shotgun wedding and a farce of a marriage.

She straightened the knife again, levelled it with the fork. I know, Jane, but I needed to do it alone. I was going to tell you when I had some answers. I mean, you can’t ever know what it’s like, not knowing where you come from.

Jane regarded her for a moment. We never loved you any less.

Yeah, I know that too, but… She swallowed the lump in her throat. I felt guilty, like I was being disrespectful to Mum and Dad’s memory.

Jane put down her glass. Oh, Bree, you should’ve talked to me sooner. She reached across the table and squeezed her hand. Mum and Dad wanted you to look for her, but only when you were ready. I guess they never got a chance to tell you before the accident.

The tension in her shoulders eased. Really?

Yes. Jane winked at Lexie. She’s a daft old thing, your mum. She always did prefer to do things alone and bottle everything up inside.

Hey, you! Less of the old, thank you very much. I’m not the one with the big Four-O around the corner.

Yeah, okay, don’t rub it in. Jane scowled for a second, and her partying lifestyle showed in the fine lines around her eyes. So, how’d it go? What did you find out?

It was a bit strange, actually. There was nothing in my adoption files about my birth mother. Except this. She hooked out the necklace she’d tucked inside her jumper. Mrs. Newman, my adoption caseworker, said it might have belonged to my birth mother.

Jane whistled through her teeth. Flipping heck, it looks expensive.

Hmm. Expensive jewellery did nothing for her.

Lexie’s eyes lit up, zeroed in like a magpie. Wowee! I absolutely love it.

Bree grinned. Trust Lexie to like it; she loved anything that looked like it belonged in the castle of a fairy tale princess—the more sparkly, the better.

Lexie went to touch the necklace. "It’s so pretty, can I wear it? Pleeease?"

Bree stiffened and snatched the necklace away from her daughter’s prying fingers, fearing she’d have the same odd sensations.

Jane’s brief frown suggested she’d noticed Bree’s overreaction, but she said nothing in front of Lexie, thankfully.

No, poppet, I’d like to wear it for a while, if that’s okay? She’d lost count of the number of times her daughter had borrowed make-up, shoes, perfume, and anything else she could get her sticky little paws on.

Lexie folded her arms across her chest and stuck out her bottom lip.

Bree ignored her daughter’s sulking. Lexie’s happy-go-lucky nature meant she never stayed in a mood for long.

Jane leaned over the table to get a closer look. Oh my God, Bree, it’s the same colour as your eyes. Super weird.

Yeah, I know. Would you expect anything less from your odd-ball little sister?

Her sister downed the last drop of her white wine. No, suppose not.

Bree had always been different; her unusual violet eyes had seen to that. She’d always felt out of sync with everyone else too, and no one, not even dear Jane, understood her. There was a word for her: a pariah, a social outcast. Although she made a joke of it, she did worry she was some sort of weirdo. Either that, or she came from an entirely different planet. But she had Lexie, and for her sake, she coped the only way she could—by creating the illusion of being a strong, confident person.

When time allowed, she would retreat into her mind, close out the world, and wonder if there was more to life than what she knew. Persistent feelings of being incomplete, like there was something missing in her life, would bubble to the surface no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

Jane’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Earth to Bree! I asked what you were going to do now.

I might take it to an antique dealer, she replied, still distracted, but not by the disappointing adoption meeting, or the curious necklace, but by her encounter with the handsome guy in the woods. She didn’t dare mention him to Lexie, or to Jane, yet. With everything else to think about, she couldn’t cope with one of her sister’s well-meaning matchmaker attempts.

* * *

Thick, slate-grey smoke filled the air, swirled and billowed around her as if the devil himself had come to drag her down to hell. Its acrid smell clung to her clothes, her hair, coated her tongue, and hurt the back of her throat.

Bree stumbled over blackened rubble and twisted metal debris. Smouldering heat forced its way through the soles of her shoes. Her eyes stung and tears spilled from the corners, but she could not give up. She had to find…something…someone?

Confusion reigned. She’d been here before, searched this foreboding, desolate place before, but who or what she was so desperate to find eluded her.

She trekked on, searching the uneven ground, straining her eyes as she tried to peer through smoke that became denser and blacker the further she blundered into the destruction.

There. Three metres ahead. Something in the smoke.

The murky silhouette of a man.

Bree froze. Equal amounts of elation and terror coursed through her veins, held her rooted to the ground. Friend? Or foe?

The shadow emerged from the smoke, becoming more distinguishable the nearer he got. His head veiled by the smoke, the man was tall, with broad shoulders, and wore chain-mail body armour, like a medieval knight. As he walked towards her, she noticed the armour was sculpted to his body. Well-defined muscles rippled.

Mesmerized, Bree teetered on the edge of understanding. Was he here to find her, not the other way around?

The guy stepped closer still. Blond wavy hair framed a ruggedly handsome face…

Bree woke in a sweat.

She’d dreamt about him, the guy in the woods, and she had no doubt he was the same man from her childhood dream.

Why would